


Desert Trials

by OldWomanJosie



Category: Artemis Fowl - Eoin Colfer
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 10:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1105904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OldWomanJosie/pseuds/OldWomanJosie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an accident in Morocco, Butler awakes to find himself enslaved and without a memory. As he learns the ropes of his new life, Juliet and an unlikely ally try to find and save the missing man before it's too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dark. It was dark. That was the first thing that the man sensed. The second thing was that he was alone. Alone and nameless in this... No. Not nameless. He had a name. He strained to remember and finally it came to him. 

"Domovoi Butler."

He said the name aloud in a harsh whisper. Yes, that was his name. He instantly felt a little better. There was one question answered. But there were a thousand more where that came from. Where was he? Why was he here? He wracked his brain for the answers, but came up with blank after blank. He thought at first that it must be due to the fact that his head was pounding like a snare drum. But gradually he realized that his memory was gone entirely. The only thing he knew was his name, and, all things considered, that wasn't much. 

Butler began to investigate his surroundings. He surmised that he must be in a vehicle of some sort, due to the bouncing and swaying of his carriage that sent endless jolts of agony through his aching head, making him feel dizzy and sick. He also found he was bound quite efficiently. The why of both of these things was just as much a mystery to him as everything else. 

He discovered as well that the pain was due to a head wound he hadn't known he'd had until hitting on the floor during a series of ruts in the road. Moving slowly and carefully, he felt the back of his head gingerly, where there was a sizable bandage and a dampness of blood. Pain enveloped him, and he slumped, allowing his body to drift into a half-stunned sleep, questions spiraling down through his brain. They had no answers. None at all.


	2. Chapter 2

_Butler, his younger sister Juliet, and Artemis Fowl II descended from the Lear onto the tarmac of the Mohamed V Airport in Casablanca, Morocco. They were on vacation. Artemis had suggested it when Butler had mentioned that Juliet was on break from her wrestling team. But since Artemis Fowl never went on vacation, Butler divined a different purpose behind the trip than relaxation. And he guessed that that purpose had to do with the demons._

_The lost eighth family of the fairies had been Artemis' pet project for quite a few months now. Butler supposed that Artemis had a lead on some more information. But the young Fowl wasn't talking, as usual, and Butler really didn't want to know. He was just glad to spend some time with his sister again._

_They paced across the hot pavement toward their car. The limousine was idling nearby, chartered from the best company money could buy. Butler reached it first and pulled open the door for Artemis and Juliet. Artemis slid in and placed his hand on the seat to shift further into the car to make room for Juliet._

_Then disaster struck._

_"Mmm." Artemis jerked his hand away from the seat in pain. Butler's eyes flashed from his employer's face to the seat and spotted a tiny, glittering needle where the boy's hand had been. As Artemis' eyes rolled up, Butler instantly connected the dots. There were hypodermics hidden beneath the seat's upholstery, filled with some drug and activated by the pressure of a body. Someone was trying to kidnap Artemis Fowl!_

_All this occured to the bodyguard in an split second and as Artemis began to collapse, Butler plucked him from the car. From the corner of his eye he saw the doors open and the driver and several other men pile out, guns at the ready. Butler had to make a desicion and he had to make it now._

_Thinking quickly, he handed Artemis off to the stunned Juliet. "Run with him to the terminal. Get help." He drew his Sig Sauer and checked the catch. "I'll hold them off." Juliet hesitated. Butler watched the gunmen from the limo move into position, using the car as cover. "Juliet, go!" The girl turned and sprinted for the terminal and Butler sighed with relief. Juliet would protect Artemis and they would both be out of the line of fire. They were safe. Now to business._

_Butler made short work of the team of five men. For a professional, it wasn't too difficult. He heard one of the men radio for backup, but was banking on being long gone before that arrived. Soon all five men lay sprawled on the tarmac, dead or going that way. The big manservant didn't like it, but he didn't play when it came to the lives of those he loved. Butler surveyed his work, nodded darkly, and turned his eyes to the terminal. He could just see Juliet standing at a window, waving at him. He lifted his hand to return the wave._

_One of the men gave a soft moan. He wasn't dead, but he was going to be soon. He could feel that. But now the least he could do was use his last breath taking a shot at the gorilla who had done this to him. He drew his handgun slowly, wincing at the effort, and took careful aim at the man's head. He pulled the trigger, swearing when the man turned his head at the exact moment. The bullet connected nonetheless, and the giant dropped._

_In the terminal window, Juliet smiled as her brother returned her wave. Then she stared, open-mouthed in horror as he fell, blood blossoming from his head. Panic-stricken, she screamed aloud, not caring if anyone heard the name..._

 

"Domovoi! Nyaaah!"

Juliet shot upright in bed, eyes wild and staring. A dream. It was all a dream. Butler was... Butler was... With a strangled sob Juliet realized that it was not a dream. Her brother was missing. The teen refused to say dead. Domovoi couldn't be dead.

Brushing her blonde hair back from her face, Juliet Butler swung out of the hotel bed. The little room she was staying in wasn't much, but it would do for a temporary stopping place until Artemis got her the help she needed to rescue her brother.

After the assault, Juliet had flown Artemis Fowl II home in the Lear. Despite his protestations, she left him in the good hands of his parents at Fowl Manor with his promise that he would send help. Then she had flown back to Morocco and holed up in this tiny motel to wait until Artemis called her.

The girl began dressing. She had to go somewhere, do something to keep her mind busy and off of the horrible waiting and the ever-present questions. _Is my brother really alive or am I deluding myself? What can I accomplish here? How can I hope to save him if he is indeed still living?_

Grabbing the keys to her rental car and her room, Juliet left the room to scout about the city. Someone around here had to know something about what had happened. It was only a matter of finding them. But find them she would. Juliet would do anything to help her older brother. Anything.


	3. Chapter 3

Butler regained consciousness suddenly. His eyes sprang open and he took in his surroundings with a quick glance. He was languishing in a white stone alcove, unbound. The alcove opened onto a sun-washed courtyard filled with people and horses. He could hear clearly the shouts of the people and the various horsey noises. The pain in his head was still there, but it had receded to a bearable level. Unfortunately, the unexplainable emptiness of memory was still there too. Seated beside him was a young man, with dark hair and eyes and tanned skin. He had been tying knots into a rope, but when Butler awoke, he stopped and began coiling the rope beside him.

"Hey, he lives." The man stood and offered him his hand. "Welcome back to the land of the living. Butler, right? My name's Rogont."

Butler took his hand and Rogont helped him to his feet. Rogont stared at him. "Wow, you are as big as they say. I didn't believe them at first. No offense of course." Butler shook his head, a little dazed. Rogont continued talking.

"I've been assigned to be your tour guide, show you around the place." He tossed the rope into the corner of the alcove and gesture toward the yard outside. "Come on." Rogont lead the way out, cautioning, "Close your eyes as you come, helps them adjust to the light better." He turned to find Butler blinking rapidly in the brilliant sunlight. The younger man shrugged. "Or don't."

While Butler's eyes adjusted, Rogont continued to talk. Butler was getting the impression that he liked to talk. "When you can see again without blinking a mile a minute, I'll give you the mini tour. I'll take questions after I give you the initial rundown. By the way, don't be alarmed if everyone knows who you are. News travels like the plague around here."

Finding that his companion's eyes were cleared, Rogont gestured to the various features of the landscape. "That," he said, pointing at a large villa to their left, "is the main house. You're lucky, you'll probably work in there for the most part, being a bodyguard and all that.

"Where we're standing right now is the courtyard. Usually this place is really empty, but we've been training the horses for weeks to be ready for the Fantasia that the master and his house are going to participate in to honor the governor's eldest daughter's wedding.

"Beyond the walls are the fields and pastures. Most of us work out there, taking care of the livestock and the crops. That's a real pain, I can tell you right now."

He was about to go on when Butler interrupted his monologue. Pointing out a man and a woman a little way off from them, he asked, "Is she alright?"

Rogont looked where he was pointing. A dark-haired woman and a red-faced little man were grappling together in a corner of the yard. Though the woman was protesting rather loudly at the man's treatment of her, the pair were being pointedly ignored by the rest of the population of the yard. "Um..." Rogont began as he turned back to Butler. Then he caught sight of Butler striding purposefully toward the combatants. Rogont watched, open-mouthed in an admixture of shock, admiration and horror at what followed.

Butler reached the woman's assailant and swung him around by the shoulder. "Leave her alone." 

The smaller man squinted up at his opponent and sneered. He had a whip in his hand and he began to play it through his hands threateningly. "Leave me be, Butler. You're new around here, so maybe you don't know the rules. I'm the headmaster. Whatever I want is mine. And that includes the women. So back down before you get into some real trouble."

He grabbed for the woman's arm, but Butler was faster. He gently shoved the woman behind him and shielded her from the man's advances with his body. She tugged at his arm. "Leave be, Butler. Do as he says, it's not worth it."

Butler declined to answer, instead concentrating on the man before him, whose face was redder than ever. This trait reminded the big man of someone, but he couldn't quite remember...

"You'll be sorry you ever messed with me," the man raged. "I'll be going straight to Master Latour, you can be sure of that. And then, oh, then you will pay for your insolence. Even though you are the favored one you'll be sure to get into a peck of trouble! No one would ever dare refuse me, but I suppose you think you're untouchable, don't you?" On he went, getting more and more worked up until Butler thought he must hurt himself. Deciding to end the situation for the safety of all concerned, the Eurasian tapped him between the eyes. Even a light tap from Butler is still heavy by all other standards and the red-faced little man went out like a light. 

Slightly confused by the man's rant and the events surrounding it, he turned to the woman he'd rescued. To his surprise she was sweeping away from him at a remarkable rate. He ran to catch up to her. "Hey, are you alright?"

"Leave me alone!"

The vehemence of her reaction stunned the big man for a moment. Recovering, he caught up to her again. Butler caught her by the arm and spun her around to face him. "Hey, I just saved your-"

"No," she hissed, jerking away from him. "The only thing you could have saved in this situation was your own hide by staying out of it. But you didn't!"

Rogont ran up beside them, face flushed and eyes sparkling. "Butler, that was wow. That was real wow. That said, it was extremely stupid. But... thanks." He looped his arm around the woman Butler had retrieved and asked softly, "You're not hurt, are you?"

She shook her head. "No. Butler stepped in before he could do anything." She tipped her head back and looked at Butler. "It's not that I'm not grateful, really, I am. But now Georges will have me and you in the bargain."

"What?"

Butler's question stopped the two in their tracks. "What what?" asked Rogont quizzically.

"What everything," the other man said shortly. "What did I do, what am I doing here, what's going on, what everything!"

Rogont sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't know you didn't know." His glance darted about the yard. "Let's walk so's we look busy." As they walked, Rogont and the woman (who turned out to be his wife Marcella) laid out what they knew for him.

Butler discovered that, according to the thriving grapevine, his name was Butler (of course) and he'd been a bodyguard for a rich man in his past life, as his companions insisted on calling it. The local slaver gang had attempted to kindap his charge, but failed. They got Butler in the bargain though, and sold him as a slave here in Morocco. His current master, a Mister Victor Latour, had bought him no questions asked before the big Eurasian even regained conciousness. This was due to the blue diamond tattoo on his shoulder that meant a lot in some way.

Butler paused to lean against the courtyard wall, thoughts spinning in dizzy circles. "A slave? In Africa? Bizarre. And the man I hit was...?"

"Georges," Marcella answered sourly. "He's had his eyes on me for months. As head foreman he can have any woman he wants. He would have taken me if not for you. Now he'll have me anyway and likely kill you in the bargain."

Rogont nodded uneasily as he watched a party of guards carry out the insensate Georges. A large and angry-looking guard barked a question at a passing slave and the woman immediately pointed to Butler. The guard sent a trio of guards their way. Rogont turned to his charge abruptly. "Butler, they're coming for you. Listen, Master Latour won't let Georges kill you, you're too valuable."

"Nah, he'll probably just maim you a little," Marcella scoffed. Rogont shot her a glare and finished his statement. "So don't worry."

"Thanks," muttered Butler as he was swiftly surrounded and placed under arrest. He went quietly, keeping in mind what he'd learned about his situation and curious to learn more. Preferably without getting killed OR slightly maimed.


	4. Chapter 4

Juliet Butler sat outside her motel at the bus stop, trying to keep from pacing. She'd been doing that for the last 45 minutes until the manager started to give her suspicious looks. So she'd reluctantly taken a seat. Artemis had called her yesterday and told her to meet the ten o'clock bus. Her help should be riding it. Artemis had warned her that he'd only been able to scrounge up one person to help her, and that this person was a little odd, but the guy would do the job. "Now if he'd only get here," the girl muttered irritably. 

 

Quassia avoided the eyes of everyone else on the bus as she rode down to the motel to meet the Butler girl. Eating a ham sandwich, the sprite casually flipped through the LEP profile on Juliet Butler. The girl was a paradoxical individual by all accounts. Quassia smiled through a mouthful of ham and white bread. Just her type of Mud Man. Or Woman, in this case.

Generally, as a rule, Quassia detested Mud People, like all of the People. But she was here because she owed a debt to this particular family. Years ago, she'd been a washed-out drunken healer in Ho Chi Minh City. In a clandestine deal with Artemis Fowl II, she'd been cleansed and able to join the People again. Unfortunately, she'd been branded a renegade, so she still could not join society as if nothing had happened. But she had been able to secure a position in Haven's criminal world. 

The old sprite had been in the midst of a raid on LEP Captain Holly Short's apartment when the Captain's communicator went off. Quassia had heard of devices like these and decided to answer it. Artemis Fowl had been on the other end. He was surprised to not be speaking to Holly, but once he knew she was, he told her what he needed. At first she'd been reluctant. But when the young Fowl reminded her of her debt to him and to his giant bodyguard, Quassia was constrained to accept. Debts must be payed.

That was why she was here, wings hidden neatly in the backpack she wore, normally green skin dyed black to blend in, and pointed ears hidden by a hat that was out of place, to say the least. But no one gave her more than a second glance. There were plenty of odd people in Morocco and the little hat-wearing woman was the least of these.

The bus halted at her stop and Quassia disembarked to come nose-to-stomach with Juliet Butler. "Are you Juliet?" asked Quassia unnecessarily, for she knew the girl's face by heart from poring over her file. "I'm sorry I'm late, traffic was brutal." It was true; getting a visa for a person like her was murder.

Juliet gaped at the miniscule person before her. "You're... you're it? You're... but you..."

Quassia tipped her head back and gave the Mud Maid a smirk. "Female? Short? Black? Wearing a winter cap in the middle of summer? Trust me, I can do my job even with all these handicaps," she said sardonically. Quassia grabbed Juliet's arm and propelled her toward the motel. "Let's get to your room. Then we can talk."

Quassia knew she had to be careful of how she acted and spoke around Juliet Butler. The girl had been mind-wiped previously and the sprite wanted to be very careful not to trigger anything that would make her remember the People. So she was creative, inventing an explanation at every odd question. Eventually the Butler female came to trust her odd little associate to some degree and they began to get things done.


	5. Chapter 5

Butler was hustled along in the middle of a knot of guards to the back of the house. The big man was fairly certain that he could easily break away, but considering the fact that he was now a slave, he decided to bide his time and find out what was going to happen.

The courtyard behind the house was deserted but for a few guards milling about aimlessly. Butler uneasily noted the manacles set into the stone wall and the blood congealing on the sandy floor. Apparently this place was a torture chamber of sorts. 

He was brought to the corner of the yard and stripped of his shirt. His guards shackled his hands into the cuffs hanging from the wall and backed away. Glancing back over his shoulder, Butler spotted Georges, a bruise welling on his forehead and a maniacal gleam in his eyes. He was casually threading a whip through his fingers.

The slave master drew the whip back and Butler held his breath, waiting for the lash to fall. But it did not come. Finally he looked back and saw Georges having a whispered conversation with a house servant. When the man left, Georges looked back at his victim with disgust.

"You have received mercy, Butler. I am ordered not to kill you." Then the light in his eyes returned and he completed his thought. "But I can indeed punish you to the very limits, yes?" And it was then, without any warning, that the first lash fell.

Butler gritted his teeth against the pain. Somehow, from somewhere deep within his consciousness, he knew how to stave off this pain. And as the beating continued, lash upon lash, agony on agony, Butler withstood it stoically. Angered at Butler's refusal to cry out, Georges laid it on all the more, determined to make this brute of a slave scream. 

For minutes and minutes it continued, until it seemed that one or the other of the men must give in. Georges was untiring, fueled by arrogant rage. It was clear to the few who could bear to watch that he would kill the slave before giving up this gory pursuit. Butler's forgotten training stood him in good stead, but there is a point past which a man can endure no more. It may have been an hour, it may have been two or three, before he could take no more. The minutes blurred until the giant's world was a haze of red and heat and pain. Clawing desperately at the last vestiges of his control, Butler gave one piercing, roaring cry before succumbing to the beckoning dark of senselessness.

 

Rogont and Marcella sat quietly together in the longhouse that made up the slave's quarters. Night had fallen and the workday was over, but Butler still had not returned. It had been hours since that blood-chilling scream had broken over the estate. Despite the logic of the situation, the two were starting to wonder if Georges hadn't killed their over-large friend in spite of orders.

Suddenly the door was flung open and four guards entered, bearing someone that may have been Butler on a stretcher. Marcella stifled a shriek of horror. The man was so badly beaten, she wasn't sure if he was even breathing. 

As if in answer to her thought, one of the guards grunted, "Georges nearly killed him, but he lives still. The master's medical staff stabilized him, but now his continued health is up to you." They placed the stretcher in the corner of the house and left as suddenly as they had come. The last guard handed Rogont a case. "First aid kit," he explained. "Make sure he survives undamaged." Then the slaves were alone with the injured man.

Marcella and Rogont, plus several of the more medically inclined slaves, toiled through the night, caring for their insensate friend. Sometime in the wee hours of the morning, the big man regained consciousness. Butler's dark eyes flew open without any prelude and Marcella braced herself. Usually when people awoke from a beating like this, their first words were curses of some sort. But Butler did something she did not expect. He took a deep breath, sat straight up, and roared at the top of his lungs.

"D'ARVIT!!!"

Then he lay back weakly and continued his rant in a slightly more subdued tone. His words sounded to be in several different languages and Marcella looked questioningly up at her husband. "Rogont, what's he saying?"

Rogont colored deeply. "He's cursing quite eloquently in quite a few languages. Seems like German, Russian..."

"English," added one of the healers. "French as well, and a little bit of Japanese." Marcella wiped a rag along Butler's brow. "Amazing. But what was that first word?" All present shrugged.

"I haven't a clue," panted Butler. "Probably a curse of some sort." He gritted his teeth as a healer daubed antiseptic onto one of his cuts. "How am I doing?"

"You'll live," muttered Rogont as he checked Butler's bandages for the zillionth time. "But you need to learn a few things about dealing with the masters so we don't have to go through this again."

"Gladly," Butler replied shortly, holding his breath against the pain of the first aid care. 

Marcella smiled kindly at him. "We'll help you, After you heal, you'll be one of us. A fully blooded slave. One of us."

"One of us..." Butler whispered before passing into an uneasy sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Quassia and Juliet decided to conduct their search on the assumption that Butler had been taken by slavers and probably sold locally. It was the most promising solution that arose and the idea corresponded with the testimonies of the airport personnel they'd interviewed.

Slavery ran rampant through Morocco, making it difficult to pin down a particular purchase. But Juliet was pretty sure that Butler had been priced very high due to his blue diamond tattoo. Using this and a couple of other factors, Quassia and Juliet narrowed the number of estates they would search to ten. And so they began to methodically search the places they had chosen, hoping to catch a glimpse of Domovoi Butler.

 

Within the same span of weeks in which his sister was conducting her search for him, Butler joined the slaves of the yard in preparing for Fantasia. Fantasia, it turned out, was a show of horsemanship that was to be put on at the end of the month for the wedding of the governor's daughter to a sheik's son, allying the desert and city peoples. Butler learned everything he could about horses in a short period of time and was assisting in the training of one such horse when he was sought out by Marcella and Rogont.

"Hey B," greeted Rogont, using the nickname that the slaves had stuck on him around a week after his arrival. "What are you doing for the festival?"

Butler nodded at his working partner, who lead the mare they were working with away for a rest. Then he turned to his friends, wiping sweat from his face with the back of his hand. "Festival? Inform me, Rogont, I'm lost."

Marcella supplied the needed information in a subdued tone of voice. "The night before events like this, the master lets all the slaves have a huge party, a festival. It's sort of like a going away party, a way to have one last time all together. Because at Fantasia and the ensuing celebration, there will be some under the table slave trading going on. None of us will know who is staying and who is not until then."

Rogont, who seemed more willing to focus on the prospect of the festival than the prospect of the sale, added, "Everyone dances or sings or something. What are you going to do?"

Butler shrugged. "I'm not much of a dancer or singer, to the best of my knowledge."

Marcella put her hands on her hips and fixed him with a mock-stern stare. "Come on, B, you know you want to." She smiled and looped her arm through his. "It'll be fun. It's tonight, you know, the festival. I'm dancing, and Rogont will probably sing one of his insufferable ballads."

Butler laughed at the look Rogont shot his wife. The big man gave his companion's arm an affectionate pat as Rogont flanked her on the other side. "Let's go see if we can find something to eat. I'll think of something to do for the festival."

 

Later, the dark desert night was ablaze with torches, music, and laughter. The festival was well under way. The slaves were romping in the courtyard and the master and his household had holed up in the main house, determined to stay out of the way of the reveling men and women they owned.

Butler was in the thick of it, but as yet he did not dare to enter the clearing in the center of the courtyard and attempt a song or dance. Rogont was one of the first to try the ring, singing, as Marcella had predicted, a seventeen verse ballad. The applause at the end was more in relief than appreciation.

Marcella, who'd been occupied at the opposite end of the yard, suddenly appeared and tugged on Butler's arm urgently. "Come on. I'm going to dance in the ring. I want you to watch." The Eurasian man was half-dragged to the edge of the cleared circle to watch the woman display her talent in dance. He was not disappointed; Marcella was known throughout the yard as a dancer to defy all others.

 

Outside the walls and under the cover of a convenient stand of trees, a sedan sat silent. Outside, it was an unassuming black, with tinted windows, the sort anyone in Casablanca might use. But within, an anxious young woman sat with a laptop beside her and a headset over her blonde hair. Most definitely not normal. She was the base for the stakeout of the Latour villa. Quassia and Juliet had settled into a pattern over the last few days. Spy out the place for the night, and if there was no sign of Domovoi Butler, move on to the next place.

Juliet spoke into the headset's mike. "How's it looking, Quassia?"

The reply came back, low and prompt. "Seems to be a party of some kind over here, Juliet. Makes for excellent cover..." Her voice trailed off, then returned with incredulous excitement. "Juliet, you will not believe what I'm seeing."

 

Marcella grabbed Butler's arm and dragged him into the ring. "Come on, B," she shouted over the din of cheers. "Sing for us!" Cheers rang loud as she dragged the larger man into the arena. Butler tried to protest, tried to back out, but the dark woman would not relinquish her hold. "Come on!" she called out again, laughing.

Butler looked at her, this slave who lived in such misery that would cow any other woman of lesser fortitude. Marcella's long, wild dark hair bounced around her shoulders, framing her tanned face and sparkling dark eyes. She was so beautiful: how could any sane man say no to her? "Alright," he relented. "I may have one song." As she vacated the clearing, Butler whispered to the lead musician and struck up his song.

_There were three old gypsies came to our hall door_   
_They came brave and boldly-o_   
_One sang high and the other sang low_   
_And the Lady sang the raggle taggle gypsy-o_

Quassia crept along the courtyard wall of the Latour villa, her shield activated to hide her from the humans partying in the wide yard. The plan had originally been for Quassia to climb the walls and case the place using skills she had supposedly acquired as a renegade government agent, the cover story Artemis had fed Juliet to explain Quassia. In actuality, once out of Juliet's sight, the fairy had shed her backpack and, shielding, had flown over the wall.

She now sat on one of the wall steps, watching one of the oddest, happiest sights the fairy had ever seen. Domovoi Butler, one of the most renowned bodyguards on the face of the earth, taciturn and rarely smiling, was now standing in the midst of a crowd of slaves, singing his heart out in a resounding baritone.

_It was late that night when the lord came in_   
_Enquiring for his lady-o_   
_The servant girl replied to her lord_   
_She’s away wi’ the raggle taggle gypsy-o_

For a second, Quassia didn't answer Juliet's question. At last she responded to the frantic questioning pouring into her ear. "You won't believe this," she repeated. "I'm looking at your brother-"

She was cut off by a shriek from Juliet. "You found Domovoi?!?!"

Quassia shook her head, ears ringing. "Yell in my ear, and yes. He's standing here in the middle of the courtyard singing for all he's worth. Here, see if you can hear it." She took off and hovered over the man's head so her mike could pick up his voice.

_Oh then saddle for me my milk white steed_   
_\- my big horse is not speedy-o_   
_I will ride and I’ll seek me bride_   
_She’s away wi’ the raggle taggle gypsy-o_

Quassia went back to her seat on the steps. "Did you get that?" There was a long pause. "Juliet? Are you there?"

Finally Juliet answered slowly. Quassia could hear the emotion clutching at her words. "Dom... never sings. He hasn't sung like that since... since before Artemis was born. Are you sure it's really him?"

"Ha, what other seven foot tall man mountain would be in a slave compound at this time of night?"

"Point. Quassia, come on back. I'm going to go in there and get him out. Wait for me."

Quassia's first instict was to argue, but she thought better of it and simply replied, "On my way."

_Then he rode east and he rode west_   
_He rode north and south also_   
_But when he rode to the wide open fields_   
_It was there that he spied his lady-o_

Amid cheers and applause, Butler stepped out of the ring and into Marcella's arms. She hugged him fiercely and he caught her, whirling her up and around, intoxicated by the joy of this moment. Rogont joined them and Butler set Marcella down gently to join her husband. For himself, Butler needed to get some fresh air.

Flushed with the exhilaration of the experience, Butler climbed to the top of the courtyard wall and paced it, thinking to himself of many things. He was engrossed deep within his thoughts when someone at his side called his name. Turning to face the speaker, Butler found himself confronted with a dark garbed young woman. He had the vague feeling that he knew her, but he couldn't think how.

She spoke softly, but it was clear from the smile splitting her face that she was ecstatic about something. "Dom. Oh, Dom, it's so good to see you."

Butler tilted his head to study her. Dom. A shortening of his first name. Now he felt more than ever that he knew this girl, but how? At his obvious lack of recognition, the girl frowned.

"Dom, it's me. Juliet. I've come to take you home."

Butler wasn't sure how to react to that statement. "I'm...sorry, have we met?" This was clearly the wrong question. Juliet's eyes blazed with fear, anger and sorrow.

"I'm your sister, you great ox. I've come here to rescue you, now come on!" She grabbed him by the hand and led him over to a rope she had thrown over the wall, trailing to the ground. "My partner is distracting the guards, but we have to hurry." She pointed to the rope. "You first."

Butler looked back at the revelry in the courtyard. "If we're escaping, I have to bring my friends. Marcella and Rogont, they deserve to be out of there too." He started to turn back, but Juliet's forceful hand against his chest stopped him.

"Dom, we are going now. Don't make me have to push you over this wall."

Her tone brooked no nonsense and she looked perfectly capable of knocking over the wall. Still, he hesitated for just a moment, locking eyes with her, this mysterious woman who claimed to be his sister. Then, with a reluctant sigh, the Eurasian man slung himself over the side of the wall.

 

Rogont looked up curiously. Marcella marked his look and asked, "What's wrong?"

"What on earth is Butler doing?"

Marcella followed her mate's gaze to the silhouette of a large man climbing over the wall. With a start, she recognized Butler. "He's escaping," she breathed.

Rogont gaped at the place Butler had stood in disbelief. "Well, we... we should... report, yeah, we should definitely report..." He stopped at the look on his wife's face. "What?"

Marcella smiled at him slyly. "No need to say a thing. We never saw anyone." She glared at Rogont until he bobbed his head in agreement. "Now come on, Rogont, let's get back to the people."

The man turned away, but the woman remained. She bared her teeth at the night in a feral grin of victory for her friend. "Godspeed, Butler," she whispered to the stars before going back to her people.


	7. Chapter 7

Juliet drove the car on backroads, trying to lose their pursuers, if there were any to be had. She was still upset that Butler didn't recognize her, but hopefully Quassia could do something with him. 

The sprite looked over her patient, who was eyeing her warily. Ignoring his looks, Quassia checked him over and called up to her driver, "Juliet, looks like amnesia to me. Synapses are shot, no conventional healing can repair it."

Butler nodded, concurring with her assesment. "That's what we'd decided back at the compound." 

Quassia rolled her eyes. "And now you tell me. But I think I can fix it with what I have. Sit still." The sprite rolled up her sleeves and placed her hands on the sides of Butler's shaven cranium. "Heal," she whispered. Blue sparks flew from her and lit the car with unnatural blue light, knitting together his broken memory. And his broken body. The magic sought out Butler's still-healing scars and erased them as well as restoring his memory.

It took a while, but when the lights faded, Quassia blew out her breath in a long sigh and slumped back in her seat. "That took more than I expected."

Juliet gave her an impatient look in the rearview mirror. "Yes, but did that laser thing of yours work or not?" 

Butler touched his shoulder ruefully. "It must have been the whip cuts, I'm sorry." Then he registered his surroundings and observed, "That was no laser, that was fa-"

Quassia had no choice but to take a diving tackle toward the man's mouth. She clamped both hands across his mouth before he could say another word. "Juliet doesn't know what I am," she hissed into his ear. "She thinks I'm a government agent. Please, don't say or do anything that could compromise the mind wipe." Butler nodded understandingly. Though Juliet probably posed no threat to the People, it was just better if she stayed unaware.

Quassia removed her hands from the man's face as Juliet glanced back at them. "Are you two OK back there?" She searched her brother's face anxiously for a few moments before turning her gaze back to the road. "Dom, do you remember me?" she asked quietly.

Butler reached up and placed a calming hand on his sister's shoulder. "Juliet, I'm fine. She did her job well, I've recovered my memory. Those new... laser healing techniques of hers are some good stuff." 

Juliet's smile stretched from ear to ear and her hands tightened on the wheel. "Good to have you back, bro. Dom, what happened to you?"

Butler sat back with a sigh. "I'll explain it all to you later, I promise, but there's something I need to do first. Julie, we have to go back for my friends, Marcella and Rogont. They did a lot for me and I don't feel right leaving them in there." He forestalled her protests with a wave of his hand. "Look, they'll be at the marriage celebration and Fantasia tomorrow. All we have to do is go down and buy them." He gazed at her with the look he knew always convinced her. "Please"

Juliet opened her mouth several times, as if to protest. But her brother had that look of his on and Quassia looked all for it, so she sighed and said, "I guess we can try."


	8. Chapter 8

Gunfire rang out and the horses took off. The Fantasia was begun. Juliet stood on the sidelines, communicating with Butler and Quassia through the mike and headset they had used at the Latour stakeout. The man and the fairy had stayed behind in the car while Juliet went to negotiate the sale of Marcella and Rogont. "Which one is Latour?" Juliet muttered as the horsemen thundered past her position.

Suddenly gasps arose from the crowd as one of the horsemen fell backwards off of his horse onto the track. And directly into the path of the next wave of riders. Before anyone else could move or speak, Juliet was moving. She sprinted out to the falling man and dragged him clear of the thundering hooves. It was all over in seconds.

The man and his rescuer sprawled just out of the way of the riders, catching their breath. Butler, who had seen the whole thing from the car and had been yelling into his sister's ear throughout the rescue, finally made himself clear. "Juliet, that would be him. You're practically sitting on Latour right now."

"That was easy," Juliet muttered as she helped the shaky Latour to his feet. The bowlegged little man was trembling with adrenaline and his eyes were red from far too much revelry before the Fantasia. _Which explains why he took a tumble,_ Juliet thought as Latour began to speak to her.

"Thank you, thank you," the man gushed, clutching at the girl's arm for support as they moved away from the track. "Praise Allah for his blessing of you to me. You saved my life, fair one. How can I repay you?" Juliet raised an eyebrow. This could work.

"It was nothing," she said archly. "A service to a fellow man." She paused as if thinking. "But maybe there is something you can help me with, sir. My patron sent me here to buy a pair of slaves for his household." Behind her sunglasses, her blue eyes scanned the area with the air of one who knew exactly what she was looking for. "Do you own any here?"

Latour pointed out a couple in the crowd. "I only brought four with me today; they were all I could spare. But any I have, you are welcome to, beautiful one. That tall one there, her name is Malacey, and the man beside her is Jaas, my head groom. Also, the couple on the other side of the table there, they are Marcella and Rogont. They are all I have." He shook his head sadly. "I had a fine specimen you would have loved yesterday, a big brute of a man. My personal bodyguard, truth to tell. But he made an escape last night. Pity."

Juliet's mouth thinned to a grim line. No matter how funny this little guy acted, he was still a slave owner and therefore despicable. She tried not to think of how he had held her brother captive and answered, "What about those two, Marcella and Rogont? They seem to be mated and that would be ideal for my patron's purposes."

Latour made a face and beckoned to the two slaves, who started their way. "I will be sorry to lose them. Out of all my slaves, those are the two I have owned the longest. But it is a small gift to the one who has given me my life." When Marcella and Rogont reached them, Latour gestured at Juliet. "This fine lady is your new mistress. Serve her well, for I owe her my life." He grinned at the girl and she responded with a tight smile of her own.

"We'll call it even, sir. And now that I have accomplished what my patron sent me here for, I must bid you farewell." She pressed the man's hand warmly. Latour looked disappointed.

"My lady, could you not stay perhaps a while longer? Enjoy the festivities, the food, the wine, the company...?" He smiled suggestively at her with what he assumed was a cavalier look in his eyes.

Juliet supressed a laugh. "Not today, I'm afraid. It is most urgent I return to my patron. Best wishes to the happy couple and a good life to you, sir." Then she turned away abruptly, snapping her fingers to the two slaves. "Follow." Behind them, Latour could be heard swearing in disappointment at not acquiring her company. 

They walked in silence, the picture of a confident mistress and her pair of slaves. Marcella and Rogont kept their heads down, unsure of what to make of their new owner. Juliet reached the car and pulled open the back door of the sedan. "Get in," she said shortly. Without a word, the two piled in and sat, waiting tensely.

Juliet got into the car and pulled the door shut. Then she took off her sunglasses and began to laugh. Quassia, sitting in the passenger's seat, joined her and the two were soon in hysterics. "Oh, oh my gosh," Juliet gasped through giggles. "You actually work for that guy? He's too much!" Rogont and his wife just stared at her, completely confused.

Their confusion was, however, short-lived. Because just then, Butler turned to face them from the driver's seat. The large man removed his sunglasses and smiled at them. "Welcome aboard."

Marcella squealed and dove forward, embracing her friend warmly. Rogont was a little less buoyant, but equally excited. "Butler, how did you... what is going on here?"

Quassia, recovered from her giggle fit, tapped the dashboard with a long finger. "Explanations later. First, let's get out of here."

"Agreed," said Butler, putting the car in gear and peeling out of the parking lot on the road to the airport.


	9. Chapter 9

On the drive to the airport and the subsequent flight back to Ireland, everything was made clear to everyone. Or, as clear as it could be made. Stories were told, friends were made, tears were shed and laughter was heard. Finally the journey was at an end and there, at the front gate of Fowl Manor, was where the hard part started. Saying goodbye.

Quassia stayed behind in Morocco, with the excuse that she liked the weather. Juliet knew that she would miss the enigmatic little woman, but Quassia had her reasons for doing things. Maybe more reasons than the Butler girl knew. And perhaps they would meet again someday.

Marcella and Rogont decided to go to France. It was the birthplace of Rogont's mother and they thought that it would be as good a place as any to start a life and a family.

 

Butler stood with the pair in the airport terminal, waiting for the call to board their flight. Rogont was uncharacteristically silent and Marcella was subdued as well. Even though their relationship with Butler was only a few weeks old, they had been partners for that time and it was a little tough to leave and face the prospect of not seeing him again for a very long time.

The announcement that their flight was now boarding blared over the loudspeaker and Butler turned to face his friends. "I guess this is goodbye," he said simply.

Rogont stood and thrust out his hand. Butler took it and the men shook hands solemnly. Then Rogont pulled Butler into a fierce hug. "I'll never forget you, B," he said quietly. "I'll never forget what you did for us." Butler gingerly embraced the man, then the two disengaged from each other.

Marcella did not even look at Butler. She pressed a note into his hand, then turned and walked with Rogont to their plane. Rogont was about to inquire as to her reluctance to speak to Butler, but when he saw her face, he desisted. His wife was desperately holding back tears.

Butler watched the 757 taxi down the runway and take off into the morning sky. Then he looked down at his hand, unfolding the note Marcella had left. 

_Take the wave now and know that you're free  
Turn your back the land, face the sea  
Face the wind now, so wild and so strong  
When you think of me, wave to me and send me song_

_Don't look back when you reach the new shore  
Don't forget what you're leaving me for  
Don't forget when you're missing me so  
Love must never hold, never hold tight, but let go_

Butler raised his eyes to the bright speck in the sky that bore his friends. Carefully, he folded Marcella's note and placed it in the breast pocket of his jacket. "I will remember," he whispered to the sky before turning away to go back to his life.


End file.
